Being in prison was absolutely killing him, both figuratively and literally. He'd been stabbed in the back by a pissed off Russian mobster and now his girlfriend, his wonderful Tara, was in premature labor at Saint Thomas while he was laying on his stomach with his foot cuffed to the bed rail in the Stockton Penitentiary infirmary. He'd been such a idiot when Abel was born, he didn't have a clue what was going on then, but now he was terrified. The woman he had loved for the majority of his life was in the hospital fighting to not give birth to their child yet, while he was strapped to a bed in prison, unable to do anything for her or their still too tiny son. He felt like the biggest tool in the world, and knew that his feelings were probably Tara's feelings too. The longer he laid there with no news, the more he mentally berated himself, and the worse he felt.

Lowen had visited him that morning, bringing the news that Tara was at Saint Thomas in labor at only twenty-eight and a half weeks. They were giving her a lot of medication, including steroids for the baby's lungs, and keeping her pelvis elevated to stall the labor as long as possible, but it didn't look good. They were hoping to keep her water from breaking for at least forty-eight hours, so that the medication they'd given her would have full effect on the baby's lungs. They'd just found out a few weeks ago that they were having another boy. The moment the ultrasound tech said "It's a boy," Tara had said, "We're naming him Thomas." The ultrasound tech knew what his son's name was going to be, before Jax did. He didn't mind though. His brother Thomas had been close with Tara when they were children. She'd sit and color with Thomas, or just talk to him, when he was too tired to run and play with Jax and Opie. Thomas' death had devastated Tara almost as much as it had devastated Jax.

Jax couldn't believe that he'd failed Tara, failed their son in such a way. He wasn't there for either of them, and he knew it was entirely his fault. Sure, he'd been dumb when Abel was born, but he really had no excuse now. He was in prison for the Club, again, and it was causing him to miss out on some of the most important moments in life. How could he possible miss the birth of both of his sons? He'd be lucky if Tara stuck around after all he'd put her through. He prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in, to give him one more chance to right things with his family. He hoped that Lowen could help him with that. She'd helped fix his family once before, and hopefully could, and would, do it again.

Before he went to prison, he had Lowen draft all the papers for Wendy to give up her parental rights to Abel, and had made sure she signed them, in front of witnesses that had nothing to do with SAMCRO, and enabled Tara to adopt his son. No matter what happened between them, she'd be Abel's mother for the rest of her life. If she left him, she could easily take Abel with her and he'd never seen any of them again. That thought scared the shit out of him, and brought an ache to his chest that made it difficult to breathe. He knew that he had to do something, but he had no idea what exactly to do this time.

He lay on that infirmary bed for three days, only allowed up to use the bathroom, before someone came and took him to a private room to meet with Lowen again. Her news wasn't fantastic, but it was better than nothing. His son was born that morning, fifty-two hours after Tara originally went into labor and fifty hours after the first steroid shot she'd been given to help mature Thomas' lungs. The best news in the world was that the shots worked and his son had needed only high-flow oxygen at birth, not a ventilator. For a not quite twenty-nine week gestation baby, that was fabulous news. They were keeping a close eye on his kidney function and had checked out his heart thoroughly, finding no sign of the family defect. Jax breathed easier when Lowen told him that. At least one of his sons wasn't going to start out with open-heart surgery.

Lowen reached into her briefcase and gave Jax a smile, pulling out a small stack of photographs. His son was in a toaster, just like Abel had been, but he was bigger, and he looked so much healthier, even with the lines going into his umbilical cord stump, oxygen hose in his nose and the various monitor wires strapped to his little body. His skin was a better color, and it brought tears to Jax's eyes. He knew at that moment that SAMCRO wasn't going to be the future for his sons. He knew they had to grow up with dreams of more than a Harley and a cut. He had to do something, and do it fast. Then it hit him, and he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Ally, I need your help," he said, his bright blue eyes pleading with her. "The club can't know anything about what I'm about to tell you."

Lowen assured him that her confidentiality agreement extended to each client, not the club as a whole. Anything he told her would not be shared with anyone unless he expressly wished for it to be shared. Sure, she was on SAMCRO's retainer, but she was more than willing to keep each man's secrets and help them in anyway possible. She'd even drop the retainer to another lawyer if Jax's next words were moving enough for her.

He explained his fears to her and told her he needed out of the club. He explained that he didn't want getting stabbed in the back in Stockton like he had, or rotting for life like Otto and Lenny, to be in his sons' futures. He wanted them to have more than what he'd had, but he needed her help making a clean break with the club. He wasn't stupid, he knew that Clay would never allow him to just leave, so he had to have some leverage against the power hungry President. The rest of the guys would let him go, he was fairly sure, but not Clay or Gemma. It might be even harder to get away from Gemma, than the club, now that he thought about it.

Lowen agreed to talk with Tara, and get her to talk with Margaret about a job somewhere else, preferably another state, and see if she could get the ball rolling, and do what she could to ensure his release from SAMCRO. She knew that this would likely mean dropping SAMCRO as a whole, as her clients, but if Jax was really committed to getting Tara and the boys away from the drugs, guns, and violence of the club, she was willing to take the hit to her pocketbook. No amount of money would make her feel better than to see those two little boys away from the death and destruction that had become SAMCRO. Those men were a force to be reckoned with, no doubt, but she wasn't afraid of them.

Jax heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back in his chair, studying the photographs of his tiny, newborn son. His little fingers and toes were so tiny. It seemed like it'd been a hundred years since Abel was this tiny, even though it'd only been ten months. He couldn't believe he had two children born in the same year. It had barely been a year since he was totally against having kids, not wanting to end his partying days. He hoped his boys would be close, and take care of each other. Jax smiled at the thought of his sons growing up together, being best friends like he and Opie had been. The last photo in the stack took his breath away. It was a shot of Tara holding a blanket wrapped Thomas in her arms as the nurse put the oxygen cannula in his nose. His beautiful girl had tears in her eyes as she smiled down at their son, and another pang of guilt hit him. He wasn't there for her, to wipe her tears away, or hold her hand while she gave birth to their child. He'd likely been the cause of her preterm labor. The news of him getting stabbed couldn't have been good for her or Thomas. It would be a long time before Jax forgave himself for causing his family so much pain. He wished he'd done things just a little differently so many years ago, and maybe things would have been different.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Lowen. "Jax, stop blaming yourself. You're getting on the right track now, and doing what's right for your family. I know for a fact Margaret Murphy will be more than happy to assist you guys in getting out of Charming and away from SAMCRO. Let me talk to Tara, Margaret and another lawyer I know, I'll keep your name out of it, and see what kind of programs I can get you enrolled in to help you when you get out of prison," she assured her client. She'd never been happier for a client than she was right now. She loved the payday that being SAMCRO's lawyer came with, but she knew that it was no life for a family, and was glad to see Jax realizing the same thing, before it was too late. "Oh and I almost forgot," she added. "Thomas was three pounds, nine ounces and fifteen inches long. He's a tiny little thing, but he's a really good size for his age, and a tough little thing. He's going to be OK, Jax."

Jax smiled at her. "Thanks Lowen, I appreciate all this. "

Ally Lowen hugged her client before she left the room, "It's my pleasure Jax, it really is. I can't wait to see you guys get away."